


Mythic Passion

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: The Matrix (1999 2003 2003)
Genre: Community: fandom_stocking, F/M, Fine Wine, First Meetings, Gift Fic, One Shot, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persephone meets the Merovingian</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mythic Passion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matrixrefugee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrixrefugee/gifts).



> A fandom_stocking for Matrixrefugee!
> 
> You asked for something set earlier in their relationship, so here it is! I hope you enjoy!

She was sitting in a cafe on the south side of Bordeaux, admiring the vintage in her glass, her well trained eyes seeing both the deep red wine and the black and green code that formed it.

She was simply doing her job - overseeing the production of wines and ensuring that their base coding was still holding to the form it was designed to. When mistakes in the grapes were overlooked, they became too sweet or too sour, and either one affected her wine. When the processes of the vineyards were compromised, it affected her product as well.

Persephone's job was to double and triple check the wines that her area of France supplied to the rest of the world. From the deep wooden casks, to the boxes full of sparkling bottles, to the single glass that stood before her on a white tablecloth. All had to be right.

"You know, the Ancient Greeks had a god," a smooth voice spoke from behind her. "He was the god of both wine and sex, and his name was Dionysus."

"Bastard son of Zeus," Persephone replied. "Raised in India, arrived in Greece with a court of followers and a litter lined with the skins of exotic cats. Also patron of dolphins, because he turned disrespectful sailors into them."

"You know the myths? I'm impressed." The speaker came into her line of vision and Persephone saw a man her age, regal and in control of himself. He was entirely dissimilar from the humans who wandered through her world; he had to be a program, like her.

Without asking, the man sat down at her table, leaning far back in his chair and smiling bemusedly at her. "Of course, one could argue that with a name like yours, it would behoove you to know as much as you could about the linguistic origin of it."

"It is too bad I cannot trace the linguistics of your name, as you have not told me it," Persephone replied coyly. "Or are you named after the fabled Dionysus?"

He smirked, the expression suiting him and making Persephone feel a little warmer. "I am the Merovingian."

"French. It means _a famous fight_ ," Persephone replied lightly.

"Denys Osiris Merovingian," he supplied.

"God of wine, and sex. God of Death. And a family who controlled most of France once." Persephone translated. "You are well named for an Operating System."

"Ah, so you have, _seen through me_ , as they say. You have seen my coding and deduced my purpose, just as I have seen into you and deduced that you are an application, designed to control the existence of wine and all of its… _splendors_." He leaned forward slightly as he spoke the last word slowly, letting it roll off his tongue.

Persephone mirrored his actions, leaning in and pressing her arms together to emphasize her cleavage. " _Wine… and sex_."

He grinned appreciatively. "But you know, there is an anomaly in that. Your purpose… it does not match with your ever so charming name."

"And you know my name, how?" Persephone found that she liked the way he spoke, as though he savored each word. It was as though he had a passion for the language he spoke, and any kind of passion was all too rare in programs these days.

"I make it my business to know the name of every gorgeous program in my territory," he replied, catching the eye of the café's waiter. Moments later, he was presented with a glass of the house burgundy. Persephone recognized it as the same vintage that she was inspecting.

The Merovingian took a small taste of the wine, rolling the sample around in his mouth. "This is an excellent vintage, my dear. Not as good as the first 1947, of course, but a distinct improvement over the fifth cycle 1908."

"Nothing was good about the fifth cycle," Persephone responded, grinning sardonically.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I managed to retrieve one or two very _stimulating_ programs from that time."

Persephone sensed the flare of lust from her companion when he spoke of the fifth cycle, and she allowed the feeling to wash through her. It had been a long time since she had shared in such intense emotion.

"As I was saying, Persephone was also an ancient Greek, but she was not wedded to Dionysus… as good a match as that would have been. She was the captive bride of the god of lost souls."

Persephone nodded, "Hades, the god of the underworld."

"So you recognized the kind of program that I am, but did you see what exactly I do?" he asked, a smirk hovering on his lips.

"You are the one they call the King of the Exiles, aren't you?" Persephone took a contemplative sip of her wine. "They do not describe you physically, but your large… _ego_ is often commented upon."

He chuckled sarcastically.

"You absorb programs that are due for deletion and retain them in your household, and you assist others in their own illicit wishes."

"And what kinds of illicit things do you desire?" he asked smoothly, smiling with an emotion that even she could not completely identify.

Persephone leaned forward again, knowing that the intimacy would affect her partner more than it would herself. "I suppose I am simply looking for my own Hades to love," she said.

"Ahhh." He spread out his arms as though he had just solved a complex puzzle. "And I, being more of a Dionysus than a Hades, leave you cold, as they say."

"The better metaphor would be to say that you leave me not cold enough," Persephone snapped back, relishing the chance to twist the words of the great wordsmith himself.

"Then perhaps you would consent to come with me tonight, to witness the depths of my… realm." The Merovingian smirked triumphantly, as though he had won. "You should make your way to my establishment, Club Hell."

Persephone took another sip of her wine in lieu of replying. He may have won the point, but tonight she would win the match. No man could be as passionate as her, and tonight she would prove just how much of Dionysus was inside her.


End file.
